


Darling Wolf

by cleo4u2, xantissa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Hook, Bondage, Bucky is a pushy sub, Dom!Steve, Heavy BDSM, Identity Porn, M/M, Negotiations, Nipple Play, PWP, Praise Kink, Seduction, Sub!Bucky, Teasing, bdsm club, play fighting for dominance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 20:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: When Bucky put on the mask and browsed the clubs, he just wanted to find Steve. All he wanted to was to let go, to finally relax. He didn’t expect to find so many disappointing doms. All butone. The one he’d been looking for. The one he was afraid would find him.





	Darling Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fannishlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishlove/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO FANNISHLOVE(mimibee)! As considerate friends we wrote you some kinky porn. You know, the way friends do :D
> 
> All hail our beta, , [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile). ALL HAIL THE GLOW CLOUD!

Steve. Steve Rogers. Captain America. His old friend. Lover. At least that's what Bucky hoped his memories meant. It wasn’t as if they were all that reliable. Still, pressing between bodies dressed in too much leather and not enough clothing, Bucky felt a shiver of tension and anticipation. He remembered Steve’s voice, his touch. He couldn’t be sure, but neither could he forget. The very thought that he could have that again was enough to drive him to search the BDSM scene in Washington D.C. until he tracked down his quarry to this particular club. 

It had taken time, after Hydra’s fall, after _Steve’s_ fall, after his own reprogramming… After all of it, Bucky needed time to remember, to become something resembling a person. He wasn’t the same person he had been, he was sure of that. There was too much of the Soldier in him now, filling up all the places that had once belonged to a younger version of himself. He wasn’t going to let that stop him, though. In the few memories he had of Steve, he had felt safe and… relaxed. He wanted that feeling back, that particular flavor of peace.

The club was adorned in black and leather, glowing with red lights, and pulsing with people. There was some show being put on, a rope class he thought. He didn’t care; it wasn’t why he was here. Neither was the masquerade party, though objectively the people were gorgeous in their costumes. Some were here in pairs, some alone and looking for companions. Bucky was here for someone in particular, someone he had tracked down to this particular club. Someone he knew would find masquerades a particular thrill, for more reasons than one.

Like everyone else, Bucky wore a mask. It was a risk that Steve might recognize him, but if Bucky was honest with himself, that was part of the thrill.

“Are you here to play?” The voice was husky, but feminine, and stopped Bucky in his tracks. “Or are you here to be played with?”

Turning, Bucky found a woman dressed in a long, lacy black dress. A tight, red corset squeezed her ample breasts, putting them on display and slimming her waist. Blonde hair had been piled artfully atop her head, spilling out around the silver and red mask she wore to cover her face. Objectively, she was stunning. Timeless in her beauty. The problem was, she wasn’t Steve.

“You couldn’t handle me either way.”

A pale eyebrow arched above the mask and she crossed her gloved hands. He noticed a flog had been tucked into the laces on the side of her corset. Perhaps her waist really was that trim.

“Why do you say that?”

“You are prey.”

A light flush crept up the woman’s cheeks, but she shook her head and smiled at him.

“You’ve got everyone talking, darling. You’re new here, right?” She swayed a step closer. “I’ve eaten a few rabbits, but none like you. I could hunt you, if you’re looking to be a late-night snack.”

The very thought of having someone so soft under his hands was twisting his stomach. He would never trust himself with someone he could so easily break. And that wasn’t even close to what he was looking for. She thought he could hunt him? He swallowed a bitter laugh. God, he hoped she didn’t try, because he didn’t want to contemplate his response.

“Little girl,” he drawled. “I don’t know what kind of ‘rabbits’ you’ve hunted, but I’m the big bad wolf.” 

Bucky stepped back, increasing the distance between them. If she had been male, he wouldn't have had problems making his rejection physical. He was reluctant to be threatening towards women, however. Odd, since this behavior had only come back when his memories resurfaced. He shook his head at himself. Gender shouldn’t have mattered to him, yet it did. 

Thankfully, like every other encounter he’d had so far, the woman took his rejection and backed off. She was blushing, rather embarrassed, but she didn’t push him. A relief, since he was starting to get wound up. After nearly a half-hour in this club, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Steve. He had RSVP’d, he should have been here. Bucky had checked.

The hair at the back of Bucky’s neck stood up and he turned on his heel, wondering who was staring at him. Bucky didn't even need to see the face to know who he was. The unreal broadness of the shoulders strained the silky, white, button-up shirt that flowed down his body. The material hugged the curves and dips of his chiseled chest, the thin fabric showing the gentle outline of tiny nipples on stunningly high pecs, even from a distance. God, but those pecs were enough to turn a man’s head. With slim hips, and long, long legs encased in well-tailored slacks, fitted like second skin, Steve managed to look classy among all the bare skin and leather. The sight of how well put-together he was made that little trickle of warmth in Bucky’s belly grow and settle in for good. 

A domino mask hid the upper half of Steve’s face, and his blond hair had been slicked tight to his skull in a way Bucky didn’t like. He remembered how Steve looked when fighting him as Captain America, and he’d liked the short hair, spiked in the front, a lot more. Just like him, he guessed, Steve wanted to both flaunt his assets as well as hide his identity, and the hair helped. 

A slight twitch of his lips showed the moment Steve saw Bucky had noticed him. They were pink and soft in the club’s flashing light as he stepped forward deliberately. Bucky could hardly believe it as Steve strode toward him with singular purpose. He had expected to find Steve, not the other way around, and it threw him for a moment. That moment was long enough for Steve to move around him, circling him like the rabbit the woman had thought him. He was _inspecting_ Bucky, his gaze fire on Bucky’s skin, even through his clothing.

Breath caught in his throat, Bucky found he could only breathe once Steve had stopped in front of him, a foot away, and met his gaze. Blue eyes smoldered behind his simple mask, promising that Steve had found Bucky far from lacking. Bucky’s heart was racing and he didn’t remember when that had started.

“So you’re the big bad wolf.”

“I could be,” Bucky answered slowly, tilting his head to look those few inches up at Steve.

“Oh, I think you are,” Steve disagreed. “Beautiful, wild, fierce, and independant. Certainly,” Steve’s eyes purposefully slid down his torso and back up as he drawled, “big.”

Bucky couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips.

“You seem like the kind that knows how to handle big.” 

There was always this urge to push and push, see who would come out the top dog. Here, with Steve so close he could smell the scent of his sweat over all the other people in the room, there was another instinct in his chest - to just submit. He was curious, the warmth in his belly coiling, the tension rising. Yet, Bucky couldn’t decide how he wanted to act. He was stuck in between two different urges.

Steve’s eyes sparkled at the challenge.

“I sure don’t hunt rabbits. I have _large_ prey in mind.” A deliberate step forward brought Steve into Bucky’s personal space, crowding him close, daring him to pull away, and teasing at those conflicting instincts. “And I think I’ve found my target. I can just imagine you, spread out for me, wrung dry of all that,” Steve’s gaze flicked to Bucky’s lips, “sass. You would be a sight, sweaty and pretty after giving me _everything._ ”

Bucky couldn't help himself; he pushed again. “And you think you can make me?” He wasn’t backing out, wasn’t moving in to physically intimidate Steve, but he needed to know Steve was what he remembered; that Steve could be what Bucky needed.

“Oh, that’s not the question, darling wolf. The question is how long can you resist. I can see it,” Steve was moving again, circling him, his hand just hovering over his arm, shoulder, chest, as he moved, making Bucky’s skin itch for the contact. He licked his lips. “You’re about to snap if someone doesn’t tame you. Collar that temper.” Steve smiled and it was wicked with the mask in place. “Make you heel.” 

Bucky fought the urge to laugh at the puns. He loved it. Some of his lighter humor showed up in his eyes - he could feel the tug of it in the corners of his eyes - he couldn’t help it. This part of his memory was true, Steve was the worst with puns.

Lowering his gaze, Bucky looked up at Steve through his lashes.

“You sure you can handle that?” he drawled, dragging the sounds straight from his belly and the heat coiled there.

Tilting his head minutely to the side, Steve’s lips parting as he took a long, slow breath. Bucky couldn't help but stare at them. His chest swelled, and he swayed closer to Steve in his fascination. 

“I told you, wolf, that’s not the question.” 

“What is the question?” Bucky asked helplessly.

“Can you really watch me walk away?” Steve murmured, still not touching him and making him ache all the more for it. “If I never touched you,” Steve swayed closer, “never spoke to you again,” his voice acquired a growing undertone that made Bucky shiver with desire, “won’t you regret it?” 

Steve took a step back, then another, moving away. Bucky didn’t need to answer with words, his body did all the talking. For each step back that Steve took, Bucky took one forward, following like a puppet on a string. His eyes were glued to Steve’s lips, curled in a knowing grin. The bastard had him and he _knew_ it. 

“I think there’s only one question left.” Bucky leaned forward. Steve had stopped moving, but he wasn’t reaching for Bucky. His hands were calmly down at his sides, his body relaxed while Bucky’s thrummed with tension. “Do you want to be mine tonight?”

Bucky stared at the man who had gotten him just with his voice; his words. What else could he say?

“Yes.” 

The small, shit-eating grin on Steve’s lips turned into a pleased smile that warmed Bucky to his toes. Then he held out a hand and Bucky took it, sliding his flesh and blood fingers into Steve’s in an an old fashioned gesture. Only, Steve didn’t lace their fingers together, he slid them up to Bucky’s wrist and wrapped, tightly. Like a collar. Like Bucky was already his. For all he could see, Steve hadn't recognized him, but he was already doing everything just the way Bucky wanted. This could be such a good night.

“Let’s find a quieter place to continue this conversation.”

Fuck, but this was another perfect thing about Steve. Bucky knew a lot of the people here loved exhibitionism, but he was here for one thing. Being watched wasn't his thing, but he had come prepared to be flexible. For Steve, he could have made a show of himself, but he didn't have to. One conversation and not only had Steve tripped him up like some greenhorn, he’d also taken Bucky’s measure. Swallowing, Bucky was terrified and amazed all at once.

Steve tugged, leading him, and he followed, staring at Steve’s profile and the tight tendon showing on his neck. There was a problem, though. Bucky couldn’t be sure how well he could submit. If he did, he wanted to be touched, wanted to be kept still and safe. He wanted the beast under his skin to finally quiet. He wanted Steve’s large body over his, his powerful arms wrapped around his wrists, and strong thighs pushing his own apart. Licking his lips again, Bucky wondered if Steve would let him touch bare skin, or taste it. Bucky wanted Steve, a man strong enough to tame Bucky’s beast and not be eaten. Though he had imagined and remembered Steve inside him, he wondered if it would feel the same. He had some memories, but they were hazy and indistinct. They hadn’t prepared him for the violent want twisting and making it hard to breathe.

They stopped in an alcove in a hall far from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the club. That couldn’t be right, they hadn’t _left_ , but the curtain that swung down felt like it cut them off from everyone else. It was just Steve and him in the small space, pressed together from hip to thigh because it hadn’t been made for men of their size. 

Fingers rubbed his pulse point and Bucky shivered. Steve hadn’t let go for a heartbeat.

“What’s your name, wolf?” Steve asked.

“Can’t I just be wolf?” he asked, terrified of breaking this spell by revealing his true identity. He didn’t want to be saved, he wanted to be at peace. He wanted to feel _good_. Still, he didn’t expect Steve to just smile, squeeze his wrist and nod. Bucky had planned this, fantasized about it, but those were just dreams. Steve taking a stranger to bed? It wasn’t what he remembered, but it was happening and his fantasies were coming true. 

“You’ll call me ‘Sir’.” 

Bucky shivered; it hadn’t been a request. 

“Yes...”

He trailed off, unable to _not_ push the envelope, and Steve’s eyes narrowed. The hand on Bucky’s wrist tightened, just shy of bruising.

“Yes, _what_?”

“Yes, sir.”

The words were breathless. He would have said it, ‘Sir’, if Steve had waited. Instead of leaving Bucky any control, though, he’d demanded the answer, and the tightness in Bucky’s chest was finally easing. Not gone, but looser than it had been since… For a long time.

“What do you want from me tonight, wolf?”

“I want you to hold me down.” Bucky licked his lips. “Immobilise me, touch me however you want. Prove that you can take me.”

Steve rubbed his pulse, but his grip hardly loosened.

“Do you want to fight me?” 

Bucky’s throat was getting dry, his temperature raising.

“A little, yeah.” 

“I want to tie you up,” Steve murmured so low Bucky had to lean in to hear him. “I want you spread out before me so I can tease you and touch you. Drive you wild until you promise you’ll be very, very good to me. Would you like that?”

“If you get me down, if you get me to spread my legs,” Bucky’s own voice was hushed, growling velvet, “you can take me anyway you like.”

Both of Steve’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, but the grip on Bucky’s wrist tightened into a vise once more. It was a relief, communicating that Steve was into the idea no matter how surprised. 

“You don’t want to stay?” Steve asked, his blue eyes searching Bucky’s. 

“I’ve been looking for a long time,” Bucky said staring up at Steve. “If you don’t turn out to be what I’m looking for, I will come back to look again. But… you feel right.” 

It was a big fat lie. Not about looking - Bucky had been trying to find what he had been missing for a long time - Steve was what he’d been looking for. Whatever else Bucky had been thinking before tracking Steve down, he couldn’t imagine just playing in the club. He wanted the whole shebang, everything, as much as he could get from Steve. He felt hungry, empty, and Steve was the only person who could fill that void. He wanted Steve to touch him, to hold him down, to fuck him - _use_ him. The very thought was making the cacophony of his mind quiet down, his focus narrowing to just the man in front of him.

“Okay.” Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding at Steve’s acceptance. “Safe word? Boundaries?”

“Doctor.” Nothing killed Bucky’s mood faster than the thought of doctors. “I have a high pain threshold, so if you like it, I can take it, but it’s not my favorite.”

“If it’s not your favorite, we won’t do it.” Steve brought Bucky’s hand to his lips, not breaking their gaze as he kissed his knuckles. “I don’t need to hurt you. Anything else?”

“The mask and the shirt stay on.” Bucky didn’t want to sound too demanding, but the sleeve covering his arm passed for human from a distance. It wouldn’t hold up under extended scrutiny. Steve would figure out something was wrong the moment he saw his arm bared. If he was tied up, his hands wouldn’t be the focus of Steve’s attention anyway, so he didn’t think it would be a deal-breaker.

“And _my_ mask?” Steve slid his hand back down to Bucky’s wrist, caressing his pulse in a way that was becoming increasingly distracting. “You like the thought of us staying strangers, wolf?”

Bucky blinked, caught aback by the result of his own actions. He had been so focused on hiding his own identity, he hadn’t thought how it might look to Steve. He would love to see Steve's face, but there wasn’t any way to ask it of him without compromising his own secrets.

“I would like to see you without a mask,” Bucky whispered, “but I can’t ask for something I’m not willing to do, right?”

“Of course you can,” Steve smiled, “but that doesn't mean I’ll do it.” More seriously, he added, “I’m uncertain if I want that, but I’ll think about it.”

That was probably the easiest way anybody had ever let Bucky down.

“Okay,” he murmured and Steve squeezed his wrist again. 

“Let’s go.” 

Without saying where they were going, Steve pulled him from the alcove and back through the club. No one batted an eye at them as they left, too engrossed in their own play. Bucky didn’t try to overtake him, he was content to just follow that tug on his arm as if it was a leash. Only the hostess spoke to them, wishing them a good evening as Steve pulled him through the door, then hailed a cab.

Steve ushered Bucky inside the yellow car that pulled to the curb, telling the driver an address Bucky didn’t recognize, and they were off. For a moment, Bucky felt nervous, but then Steve was tucking an arm around his back and pulling him flush to his side. He looked up at and felt his cock jump at the wicked look Steve was giving him as he leaned close.

Steve’s lips brushed his ear as he whispered, “The things I want to do to you. I have toys… Will you let me use them?”

Bucky swallowed, but the noise in his head, the fight in his blood was not yet calmed. Steve haven’t yet held him down, or won him. Not yet.

“If you prove you are man enough to handle me, you can use any toys you want.” He looked at Steve from under his lashes. “As _long_ as you want.”

Blue eyes sparkled behind the mask and Steve crowded closer, pinning Bucky against the cab door.

“Any toy, wolf? You sure that’s the agreement you want to make me?”

It was hard to breathe, or think. Yes, he wanted anything Steve could come up with. Everything he could come up with.

“To the victor go the spoils,” he rasped, heart pounding, hoping Steve wanted this as badly as he did. If the soft sigh Steve let out was any indication, he did.

“Tonight will be a night to remember.”

God, Bucky hoped so. He hoped Steve would be everything he vaguely remembered, but mostly everything he dreamed. It was so much to put on one person, but Steve was all that was left of him from before Hydra had broken him. If Bucky could reclaim even a portion of it tonight, it would be worth risking everything.

And it was a risk. Bucky was still wanted as the Winter Soldier and Steve couldn’t be unaware of his crimes, not any more, not like he’d been on the helicarrier. He might turn him in, taking the freedom he’d only just gotten back. Might even do it for what he thought was Bucky’s own good. There was also that nagging thought that if Steve knew it was him, he would expect Bucky to be who he’d been, the man from the past. He couldn't, wasn’t sure he even want to. He had no idea which would feel worse, Steve looking at him and not finding what he wanted, or actively disappointing Steve. Everything would be easier if they were just two strangers, meeting for one night of pleasure. No expectations, no failed duties, and no pressure. Nothing but carnal desire and sweet release.

“Not going to ask where we’re going?”

Bucky started, realizing he’d been staring at Steve silently for god-only-knew how long. He must have seemed unreasonably careless. It wasn’t like Steve could have prepared a trap beforehand, but a normal person _would_ have been worried. A normal person wouldn’t know how to handle themselves.

When Bucky couldn’t think of a response, lips parting on air, Steve smiled.

“You play a very dangerous game, darling wolf. Can I ask, how well thought-out is your fantasy? Or will that spoil it for you?”

Relieved, Bucky realized Steve thought this was all part of a fantasy of being with a stranger. 

“I care about you proving you can handle me.” Bucky leaned towards Steve, his body open and inviting. “If you can, you get the right to play with me.” He touched Steve’s thigh, feeling the power of the body hidden beneath the dark pants. “The rest is your reward.”

“You’ve said that,” Steve murmured, “several times. Is that the fantasy, then, wolf? TPE if I’m strong enough?

“For the night,” Bucky agreed and watched Steve’s eyebrows climb back into his hairline. He wasn’t concerned Steve might flip out, or turn into a psychopath. Steve had proven himself when he had been willing to be beaten to death by a stranger wearing his best friend's face. Bucky wanted to relax, to let the tension drop finally from him bones. If Steve could do that, Bucky would be happy with giving him everything.

“Wolf,” Steve said slowly, licking his lips eagerly even as his voice said he was hesitating now, “I need to know you’re one hundred percent sure of what you’re offering. I’ve… honestly never done a total power exchange.”

If Bucky had had any reservations before about Steve’s character, they would have been dispelled then.

“I know,” Bucky assured, “I’m up for most of the toys you might have. Not keen on electrical play, but pain doesn't scare me. I have no trouble following orders from a worthy master. You want to tell me how to move, make me endure for your pleasure? I can do that. I can give you that, all the control you want, all the freedom to get pleasure out of my body. Do you want that? To play with me for your own pleasure? To get what you fantasize about? Put your toys in me, wind me up? Watch me come? Watch me not come until you tell me to?” Bucky lowered his voice, made it rough and dark. “I could make this night a fantasy come true, my limits are few and far between. Tell me what you dream about, but never get to do?”

Against Bucky’s side, Steve shivered and pressed his lips together firmly. Then he pulled Bucky tighter, almost painfully so, and reached for Bucky’s jaw. He tipped his face up, leaning forward as if to kiss him.

“I’m not an easy man to handle,” Bucky whispered roughly, slowly pulling away from Steve’s grip. A tease, to irritate the calm man at his side a little. “I want to relax in the care of someone strong enough to do the job.” Steve’s eyes hadn’t blinked, staring into Bucky’s like they could set his soul on fire. “Nobody in the club came close. They were all weak, unsure. I could roll them over without much effort, I knew that. You got that, saw right through me. You read me the way other people couldn't. I want to see how far it can go.” Bucky lowered his eyes to Steve’s lips. “With you.”

When he looked back into Steve’s eyes, they were hunting his again. Like he was trying to find something in Bucky. What, Bucky didn’t know, but Steve must have found it because he leaned back again.

“I think we have an agreement.”

Bucky nodded once and Steve was moving, arm blurring as he caught Bucky about the throat. When Bucky tried to pull back, Steve just tightened his grip, threatening to take Bucky’s breath away.

“Then I’ll tell you what I want,” Steve purred, “Once I have you on your stomach, face down in my carpet, my knee between your legs, I’m going to strip off these nice pants of yours so I can really get my hands on you. Then I’m going to tie you up, tight, to make sure you _stay_ spread out and open, and then I’m going to tease you. I’m going to tease you until that little smirk you’re wearing is gone.” Bucky smiled, lowering his lashes to appear more demure. He wasn’t sure it worked, but he wanted to show he was willing to make an effort. He loved the even tone of Steve’s voice, the dark intensity underneath. “I’m going to open you with my fingers, wolf, get you nice and ready, so I can fit a fat anal hook into you, leave you kneeling with it pulling at you. How long do you think you’ll last? Because I won’t be fucking you until you’re a mewling mess, dying to come.”

Bucky loved the image and the promise of Steve wanting him to lose control, to give into the sensations wholly. He had no idea how long he would last, or how long he would fight himself for control, but he wanted to see what would happen. If he would finally give in under Steve’s hands. Those big hands would be very careful with him and he shivered at the thought. 

“It sounds…” He had to swallow past a dry throat. “Really good.”

“Mm,” Steve hummed, a small smile of approval on his lips, but he didn’t release Bucky’s throat, “I think I’ll use your pretty mouth while I have you on your knees. You have gorgeous lips, wolf. I want to know if they’re as soft as they look.” Thinking of having Steve push deep into Bucky’s throat had him licking his lips again. “I see you like that, too.”

“I might enjoy your reward as well,” he murmured. “Isn’t that how you like it?”

“It is,” Steve conceded. “I want to drive you wild, wolf. I want you falling into yourself, only in control because I’m making you. Because if you don’t obey, I won’t give you more, and that thought,” Steve massaged Bucky’s throat and then dropped his hand, “I want that thought to be very painful.”

Bucky held back a groan, a curl of heat all but scorching his groin. His throat felt cold where Steve’s hand had been pressed against him.

“Everything you say, everything you imagine for me, makes me long for it. For us to be at your place already. For your body to be stretched over mine, heavy and inescapable. I want to have you do all those things.” 

Bucky was aware his voice was shot to hell already, gravely and rusty from the dryness of his throat. His palms were sweating. The doms that had tried and failed to pick him up never could have affected him like this.

“We’re almost there,” Steve assured, “and I’ll earn my prize.”

Slowly, Bucky exhaled quietly, wishing with his entire being that Steve would succeed. He wanted to be under those capable hands more and more with every passing second. Wanted to be safe in the hands of a man strong enough to take control and not break under the strain.

The car came to a stop and Steve pulled away completely. It was shockingly cold without Steve’s warmth, and he hurried to join him on the sidewalk outside.

“I have very fast refractory period,” Bucky murmured as they stepped out of the cab. 

Steve paused, keys in his hands, at the foot of a brownstone. He raised an eyebrow, then slid his gaze to Bucky’s toes and all the way back up. Instead of responding right away, he started up the steps and Bucky felt drawn to follow, manipulated again by Steve’s lack of reaction.

“How short?” Steve finally asked as he pushed his keys into the lock.

Bucky perked up at the thought that Steve might actually let him come more than once, and he answered without delay, “Fifteen minutes.”

If he hadn’t been paying so much attention to Steve, to his every reaction, he would have missed the tongue that darted out to wet his lips as he got the door open and pushed inside.

“How do you feel about overstimulation?”

“Kinda love to hate it.”

“Good,” Steve drawled and the word was definitely a promise. Bucky shivered, hardly taking in the apartment they were walking through. It was a blur of dark reds and soft browns, and then Steve was holding open a door at the end of a long hallway, a bed made with a white, fluffy comforter and a mound of pillows against the far wall. 

Swallowing, Bucky glanced at Steve, then stepped past him. He’d only taken a few steps when the bedroom door slammed shut and a solid, heavyweight hit his back. Arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist and, he was ashamed to say, he reacted without thinking. Twisting, he rolled, grabbing onto his attacker and heaving. 

With a surprised oof, Steve flipped over his head and landed on his back, staring at him upside down as his neck dangled over the edge of the bed. Bucky went cold, fear gripping his heart, because a normal person shouldn’t have been able to take Steve. Not Steve, with the perfect serum, but he had, flipping him hard, and now Steve was looking at him with too-smart eyes, and he would know. He would know Bucky wasn’t a stranger. He would know -

“You’ve got some training,” Steve said, rolling to his feet, like he wasn’t suspicious, like it was just part of the game. “I didn’t expect that.” 

“Used to be a soldier,” he murmured, floundering for an explanation Steve would accept. He wanted a struggle, yes, but this wasn't it, and Steve staring at him with those damn smart eyes wasn’t part of the plan either.

Steve smiled, bright and happy, and Bucky relaxed. He hadn’t been caught.

“This is going to be fun.”

The words caught Bucky off guard as Steve bounced on his feet, rolled his neck, and then dived for him again. No punches, or kicking, just a wrestling match on Steve’s perfectly made bed. Pillows went flying, but Bucky was only surprised this time that Steve had knocked him onto the bed and not the floor. He wasn’t putting up quite so much of a fight this time, either, remembering to push back only as strongly as should have been possible. Steve, though, was holding back, too. He wasn’t putting his full strength into crawling over Bucky, twisting, wrestling him with legs and holds that were bad form. Steve had to know it, too. 

Steve, Bucky realized, was letting him enjoy the fight.

Bucky grinned, oddly high on the knowledge, and heaved with his whole body, managing to dislodge Steve’s grip enough to wriggle almost free, but not quite fast enough. Steve recovered with the speed of an experienced brawler, got a good grip on Bucky’s thigh and threw himself across Bucky, dragging his leg up and upsetting Bucky’s balance so he face-planted into the bed. Grunting under the full weight of the man sprawled on top of him, Bucky tried to fight, but Steve’s thick thigh pressed between his knees and then pushed, coming to a stop snug against Bucky’s balls.

Pinned and beaten, Bucky’s heart beat wildly in his chest, and he couldn’t help but imagine if the fight was real. What would it be like to really push Steve, to use their true strength, and see who the victor was? Would Bucky’s desire to lose affect him? Would Steve let the fight draw out, even then? He wiggled a little, trying to push Steve off just to feel the flex of Steve’s muscles as he held on, pinned him with as much strength as he would dare to use on a normal human. Bucky’s cock hardened even more, rubbing painfully against his zipper. He was drowning in Steve’s heat, in the scent of his sweat, his soap, the subtle aftershave that just made him want to bury his nose in the man and inhale his scent like an animal.

Bucky _wanted_. He wanted anything, and everything, Steve would give him.

Hot breath against his ear made Bucky shiver just before Steve said, “And now you’re mine, aren’t you, darling?” Bucky struggled again and Steve lifted, long enough to twist Bucky’s arm behind his back and grab his throat with the other. “I want to hear you say it. I own you. I _won_.”

Bucky was unable to squeeze words past a suddenly tight throat. He might have held back, and so did Steve, but it didn't change the fact that Steve had won, or would have won even if they’d used their full power. Steve was fast and capable, trained and confident. Steve really had won. Nobody had ever managed to get him down so fast and so easily.

Nobody.

He growled into the comforter, words still gone.

Steve moved, his lips disappearing from Bucky’s ear and then he felt Steve’s nose at his neck, a hot breath on the sensitive nape, and then _teeth_. The bite wasn’t hard enough to break skin, but it wasn’t gentle either. He could feel the power of Steve’s jaws, the sure grip he had on his flesh and Bucky whined before he even understood what he was doing.

“You won,” he rasped, and Steve let go.

“All of it,” Steve growled, lips brushing over the stinging marks that had to be left from Steve’s teeth.

Bucky repeated the same words he said to Steve in the cab, “To the victor, go the spoils,” and he meant it. Steve had won. He could have whatever he wanted.

“Do you like being praised?” Steve asked, as the hand twisting Bucky’s arm let go, then dug under his waist for his fly. The question with the action was confusing, but Bucky’s cock throbbed as Steve’s hand pressed against it.

“Yes,” Bucky admitted, trying not to think about why, but Steve didn’t let him dwell.

That hand squeezed his length and Steve’s breath ghosted over his ear as he murmured, “Good boy.”

Groaning, Bucky ground himself against Steve’s palm, and then again when Steve licked his ear instead of pulling away. A reward, Bucky realized, taking what was being offered. It should have been shameful to be so damn eager, but Steve was playing him like a fiddle, and he was so wound up, so ready to come, and they were both still fully clothed.

“I think you’re going to need something to take the edge off,” Steve said, as if reading Bucky’s mind. “If you want, you can come like this.”

In his pants, Bucky realized, from humping against Steve’s hand. Though he blushed so hard his face felt swollen, Bucky didn’t stop his hips. He ground into Steve’s palm, groaning softly, and then moaning on the occasion Steve would squeeze him. It felt so fucking good, pinned to Steve’s bed, that hand still securely around his throat, legs spread around Steve’s thigh. And then Steve, somehow figuring out what would get to Bucky the most, fit his teeth against Bucky’s nape again. He bit down, the pressure sending a cavalcade of shivers down his back, Bucky’s cock throbbing angrily, and pushing him off the precarious edge he had been hovering on.

Bucky came with a choked whimper. His hips pumped against the pressure of Steve’s hand, spurting come inside his own jeans, giving it up just like Steve wanted him to.

“Such a good boy,” Steve purred, lapping at the fresh marks on Bucky’s neck. Bucky just groaned, limp, as Steve released his throat and both hands tugged and pulled at his pants. Pulling them off, Bucky realized, along with his underwear and tossing them aside. “But you did forget to thank me for being so generous and letting you come. What do you say, wolf?”

It surprised Bucky when the words came so easily to him.

“Thank you, sir.”

It must have surprised Steve, too, because he froze for a long instant.

“What a good beast you’re turning out to be,” Steve whispered. “Maybe more a puppy than a wolf?” Hands gripped his thighs, spreading them, and Bucky groaned and buried his face in the down comforter. “Just need a firm hand to teach you to behave.”

Steve didn’t tell him what was coming next, but Bucky remembered his promises. A lube bottle opened, squelched loud in the room, and then wet, dripping fingers were pushing at his hole. He tensed, before remembering to relax. The lack of forewarning was an exciting thing, just as he had expected.

“Has it been awhile, pup?” Steve asked, voice gentle instead of mocking like Bucky had expected, though he couldn’t have said why. “Do you need me to go slow?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky admitted, his breath hitching as Steve massaged lube into his hole, pulling lightly at the edges. “At least… at first.”

“Mm,” Steve hummed, the note of approval doing things to Bucky’s insides, “don’t want to hurt you, not when you’re being so good.”

The words were so tempting, and Bucky started closing his legs. Steve must have expected something, though, because he was apparently kneeling behind him, and Bucky’s thighs only closed on his knees. The feeling of it, or knowing Steve was there, had his entire body going limp once more, just before the tip of Steve’s thumb pressed past his rim.

Moaning loudly, Bucky flushed in embarrassment, but Steve just hummed again. Like it was a direct wire to his brain, Bucky didn’t hold back as Steve tugged, pushing and pulling with just the tip of his thumb at his hole. It felt so good, had been so long, and Steve was teasing him so wonderfully. There was no pain at all, though they were just getting started.

“It’s very hungry, isn’t it?” Steve asked as he switched fingers, pressing something thinner inside so slowly, though the digit slid in easy on all the lube. “Do you jerk off thinking of being filled with fingers and cock?”

“Yes,” Bucky admitted as the finger kept going, pushing inside him all the way, and filling him so damn full. It was just one finger, but god it _had_ been a long time. 

“I want to fuck you,” Steve admitted, sounding like he was talking more to himself than to Bucky, “but you see, while you’re being so good, you haven’t earned it yet. Don’t worry,” Steve assured as Bucky groaned, “I’ll give you the chance. You just have to keep behaving.” Slowly, Steve dragged the finger back out, pressing down so pleasure shot through Bucky’s groin. “And in the meantime, there’s so many things I want to put inside you. My fingers, my tongue, if you’re particularly good; plugs, the hook, maybe a dildo. A large one that would take real effort to take. Something that would make that lovely, tight, pink hole of yours stretch to the point of pain, but just enough. I want to mess you up, pup, leave this little hole sloppy and open; gaping, ready for my cock whenever I wished.” 

As Steve was talking, his finger was slowly withdrawing, then pushing in, making Bucky imagine every word. The stretch, the ache, the wrecked feeling afterwards. He’d hardly be able to walk, even with his serum, his legs aching from being held apart, his ass throbbing and hot, sore, but not painful. Anyone would be able to push into him without effort, fuck him without this careful, slow process Steve was performing now. And Bucky wanted it so bad. Anything, everything, all of what Steve was saying. He wanted to be used and wrecked and be loved for the pleasure his body could give. 

“Ah, ah,” Steve tisked and then pulled his finger free. Bucky whined, but Steve ignored him and grabbed his hips, lifting upward until Bucky got his knees beneath him, holding himself up. He was still spread, wide and vulnerable, but his cock wasn’t pressed against the comforter any longer. It hung beneath him, soft, but already tingling, and Steve ran the back of his knuckles over the soft length. “You don’t get to come again yet.” 

With his face still mashed into the mattress, Bucky whined again, but quieted as Steve pushed his finger back into his ass, filling him again. 

“So needy,” Steve teased. “All my pup needs is to be filled, hmm? I bet you’ll do anything I say, just to keep me from leaving you empty.”

It was humiliating, but Bucky thought Steve might be right. He ached just from those few moments without Steve’s finger. He had come undone so easily, like he was the puppy Steve was accusing him of. And, yet, Bucky still didn’t feel a desire to fight back. He was floating from his orgasm, feeling so good, so relaxed, and Steve kept telling him how good he was.

“Yes,” he managed through a throat tight with want. His face felt so hot, burning as he pressed it into the comforter, the aftershocks of his orgasm still echoing in his body.

Another pause and Steve murmured, “I didn’t think you’d say it. You’re so good, pup. Have I told you how good you feel inside? You drive a man to temptation, darling, but I do love you like this. Melted and gooey. Do you want another finger?”

“Yes,” Bucky said again, wriggling a little to get more comfortable. Steve let him, then readjusted his knees. Then another finger was pressing into him, stretching him sweetly. Without an addition of lube, it burned slightly, but there wasn’t any pain. 

WIthout warning, cold, cool liquid poured over Bucky’s hole. It was a stark contrast to the two fingers inside him, hot and thick, and Bucky yelped in surprise. A strong hand gripped his hips as he tried to push up the bed, and pulled him back. Pulled him _onto_ the fingers pushing inside him, and he cried out as Steve’s knuckles pressed against his taint. 

“Now, now,” Steve scolded. “Hold still, pup.”

Growling into the comforter, Bucky bit back a harsh reply, only because the way Steve’s joints pushed into his skin felt so good. It was _Steve’s_ fault he’d moved, after all. The shock of cold with something so hot inside him had been entirely unexpected. It couldn’t be helped.

Steve chuckled.

“Feeling more yourself, I see. And here I was thinking you’d earn my dick faster than I’d planned.”

Bucky wiggled, hands tightening into fists in the comforter. He was going to do something, but he wasn’t sure what yet. It would prove he was still his own master, though, that he was only submitting on the surface, and any control Steve had was a temporary gift. Steve wiggled his fingers, curling them and, “Oh,” was all that came out of Bucky’s mouth. Closing his eyes, Bucky bit his lip, enjoying the consistent pleasure as his prostate was stroked over and over.

The pleasure skirted the edges of pain. Caught between softening and the unreasonable urge to get hard again, his cock was over-sensitive. His refractory period was short, yes, but not _that_ short. Trying to breathe through the sensations, Bucky pressed his forehead into the bed. 

“What do you want?” Bucky asked roughly. “Just to watch me?” He groaned and twisted his head to the side, wishing he could see Steve. “Or do you want me to touch you?”

“Oh, you don’t get to touch. That’s its own reward.” The fingers twisted and crooked, stretching Bucky as they thrust into him. “And I told you what I want, pup.”

Exhaling loudly at the stretch, the pressure of Steve’s fingers inside him, Bucky couldn’t help but taunt Steve, if only gently, “You hadn’t got me under your hands when you told me what you wanted.” 

“You think that changes what I want?” Steve chuckled, then shocked Bucky again with another cold, drizzle of lube. “Darling, no. What I want, what I always want, is to tear apart that gorgeous control of yours. I want to take all that snark and tear it away. I want you to be able to think of one thing and one thing _only_.”

“You think a couple of fingers will do that?” 

Another soft chuckle and Bucky shivered, his cock twitching without the ability to swell.

“Patience, pup. Rome wasn’t built in a day. And you, with all those walls, are going to take some time. Good thing we have all night, isn’t it?”

Bucky laughed quietly into the bedsheets, rubbing his face against them.

“Confident bastard, aren’t you?”

“I did have you on your belly in a matter of moments, didn’t I?” 

Bucky shuddered, the memory of being pressed down by those strong hands sending sharp zings of pleasure down his back, as if somebody was pouring boiling water along his spine. Clenching his eyes tighter, he breathed in and then slowly out, trying to control his body’s reactions.

“You did,” he admitted, the words barely a breath.

“Ready for a third?” Steve asked, not taunting him at the admittance this time. Not pushing him, when he would only push back. It was infuriating. How could he know the line to walk this soon? When to push and when to accept the ground Bucky gave?

“Yes, sir,” Bucky groaned.

This time, Bucky was expecting the cold touch of lube and the stretch and burn of another digit. Steve was moving faster, though, not keeping the same, patient pace, so the sensations lingered. The not-quite-painful sensation took his breath and Bucky found himself pushing back before he knew what he was doing. He was pushing himself onto those fingers, encouraging the new pace, trying to get more and more of Steve inside him.

“That’s good, pup,” Steve purred. “One more, and then the hook.”

Bucky groaned, a sense of frustration at not actually having Steve inside him growing in his chest. He hadn’t expected to want to be fucked as much as he did. The fingers felt good, but he wanted the real deal. He wanted Steve’s cock, and more than that, he wanted to hear Steve fuck him. What sounds he would make when got to push in and experience the pleasure that Bucky could give him? Bucky wanted to hear it as much as feel it. This cold distance was chipping at his control faster than he had expected.

“Mm, I know,” Steve cooed, “you want me inside you. I told you, though, you have to earn that. I know you can, though. You’re so good, pup… and I’m going to love taking you apart.”

“You think you can?” Bucky growled, shuddering, because those damn fingers inside him were playing him like a violin. They strummed and Bucky sang, soft moans and shivers, but he couldn’t stop. It felt too damn good. He tried, though, but every time he thought he had locked away his embarrassingly eager noises, Steve would do something with his fingers that drove Bucky wild.

“Yes,” Steve said, simple and confident, and Bucky moaned again. 

Bucky felt Steve shift behind him. The fingers were still deep inside him, pushing steadily in and out. Even as they did, Steve came closer and, for a moment, Bucky felt a thrill of triumph. Then hot, moist breath caressed the lowest point of his spine, where his shirt rode up to expose his lower back. 

“I love the shape of your body,” Steve murmured. Bucky could feel the words, the brush of his lips and the heated air from his lungs. They latched onto the last bump of his spine, the touch shocking on his overheated skin, as was the merciless sucking that was going to leave a huge hickey. He twitched helplessly as Steve trailed moist, sucking kisses down the line of his bones to his hip. Bucky was panting, hypersensitive to the fingers inside him and the sucking kisses above. Every part of him was left in limbo, waiting, expectant, attempting to foresee where Steve would place his lips next. There was nothing left to choke down a surprised shout when Steve sank his teeth into the swell of his left buttock. He didn't break skin, but Bucky was sure it was going to bruise. 

Steve’s fingers curled, pressing down hard against Bucky’s prostate as he bit down harder just before letting go. As they left, so did the fingers at his prostate, leaving Bucky dizzy with the lack of sensation. 

“Love it so much I want to eat you up.” 

Another murmured compliment followed another bite beside the first. Bucky jerked, pain mixing with sharp, stinging pleasure as Steve’s fingers jabbed at his prostate mercilessly. It was hard to think, hard to do anything but pant as he rode out the sensations. The pain was there, but not strong enough to overshadow the pleasure cascading from his prostate down to his cock in scalding waves. It was tempering the pleasure, strengthing it, and making it impossible for his body to react. Bucky was stuck in between, unable to speak or move, gasping like an animal.

“Mm.” That hum, the approval so clear and bright, sinking into Bucky’s chest like oxygen he’d been deprived of. “You said you wouldn’t _mind_ the pain, but you like it. Do you want to find out how much? Or just… this?” That brush of lips over the fresh, stinging teeth marks, and Bucky’s entire being shuddered violently. “Just a sprinkle to push you over that edge?”

“Just… just this,” Bucky gasped when he realized Steve was waiting for an answer. 

That hum again and Bucky’s cock finally joined the game again. It surged to life, not the slow, coaxing growth he was used to after an orgasm. And it was that fucking noise, Steve’s signal that Bucky was pleasing him, that got him going. 

“Ready already?” Steve’s palm cupped his cock, pressing it flush to his belly. “Not even ten minutes, pup. That’s good; we’re almost done.”

“Almost?” Bucky groaned, then again louder as Steve twisted his - “Holy shit,” Bucky gasped as he realized what he was feeling. During the biting, Steve had gotten a fourth finger inside him. Everything but his thumb was stuffed into Bucky, stretching him more than he’d ever been, twisting and turning and touching more of his insides than Bucky had thought possible. With Steve no longer humming, Bucky could even hear the wet, squelching sound of Steve pushing all those fingers and lube into him. It sounded obscene and got him so damn hot he had to fist his hands to regain any semblance of control. 

“Almost,” Steve purred.

Even with the control he’d scrambled up, Bucky couldn’t keep from moaning. There was nothing else to focus on but those fingers, that sound, and the pleasure coursing through his body. Bucky trembled, wishing he could stop vocalising like a ten cent whore, but incapable. It was all he could do not to throw himself at Steve and beg for his whole, damn hand.

“That’s it,” Steve hummed, “Alright. Now the hook.”

Bucky let out a sound akin to a sob, not that he would admit it. He certainly wouldn’t admit to pushing back as Steve pulled his fingers out, trying to keep them inside him for just a moment longer. Hushing him, Steve got off the bed, but Bucky couldn’t watch. His hole felt gapingly empty, cold and vulnerable, open in a way he hadn’t felt before.

“It’s going to be cold,” Steve warned, the bed dipped, and something frigid pressed to that point he couldn’t stop focusing on. It almost burned, the line of fierce sensation making him shudder reflexively. “Hold still,” Steve ordered and Bucky whined, because how was he supposed to do that? Yet he tried, tightening his muscles even though that would make it harder for Steve to push the ball inside. 

Then it was cold and _pressure_ , so much pressure, like Steve was trying to force the damn thing into him without preparation. There had been _so much_ prepping, but it felt like they were getting nowhere for the longest time. Then, with a wet squelch, it pushed inside him enough that his hole closed around it. Bucky’s body tried to clench again, but his muscles were confused, shivering around the intrusion, and he couldn't tell if he was succeeding or not. 

The cold eased momentarily, morphing into something more pleasant, a sensation that made him even more sensitive to the pressure. Bucky moaned, tossing his head helplessly and doing his best to spread his legs, to do something, anything to ease the pressure. His rim tingled against the slowly warming metal, frustrating him because the ball was inside, and his entrance was left with a tiny, thin pole.

“You have to move with me now, so I can tie you up,” Steve was saying, and Bucky tried to focus on his voice. It was hard, with the strange feeling in his gut, but he nodded slowly and tried to obey as Steve coaxed him to his hands and knees, then to sitting up. “Now sit on your ankles, but keep your knees spread wide, darling wolf.”

Without warning, the ball inside him shifted, rolling as Steve must have moved it. Bucky shuddered, back arching, as it at once pulled at his rim and pushed at his _entire insides._ Brain switching off, Bucky floated on the sensation, gasping. He was only peripherally aware of the ropes wrapping around his chest, throat, and arms. The ball didn’t move again, though, so Bucky came down slowly, realizing Steve had tied his arms behind his back, looped some around his neck, and was working on something between his legs. 

“Steve,” Bucky mewled, barely even recognizing his own voice. It was soft, breathy, and sweet, and Steve’s head snapped up from where he’d been focussing on his knots. Bucky could barely think about anything other than the line of cold pressure inside him, the sensation so distracting. Yet he saw Steve’s eyes dilate and then he was sitting up, pressing his hand to Bucky’s cheek, and kissing him for the first time.

Falling forward, Bucky’s eyes closed, but Steve held him up. They kissed slowly, heated, passion dripping like lava as Steve’s lips moved over his, opening him slowly. The heat of Steve’s tongue was a sharp contrast to the chill inside him and Bucky whimpered, then again as Steve just sucked his tongue into his mouth. 

Steve must have come back to himself, though, because the hook inside Bucky suddenly twisted again, the ball turning and stretching places Bucky didn't know existed. Shouting, he broke the kiss as his muscles strained, but Steve didn’t relent. He pulled away, and then pulled at the rope about Bucky’s throat. Another tug and Bucky understood, choking on a moan, his body turning slick with sweat. Steve was tying the hook to the rope, making it so Bucky controlled when it moved, when it shifted. The sensation was already so intense, and now he would torture himself; Steve would make him. Goosebumps rushed across his skin and his cock jerked, precome spilling from the tip in thick drops. Steve was so damn good at devising scenarios. 

“Let me finish your legs, pup,” Steve whispered against his lips. “I don’t want you to be able to close them; I want to be able to get to every inch of you.”

God. Bucky was already so open and sloppy. If Steve tied him open, all that mess would drip down his legs. Bucky shivered and moaned his agreement. _Yes_ , he wanted it, and held perfectly still as Steve pulled away and returned to his meticulous work. The ropes strained over his thighs and ankles, tying in the back to his wrists and to themselves so he truly couldn’t close his legs. Well, he could have, but he’d have to bust the ropes and that defeated the point of giving himself to Steve.

“There,” Steve hummed, and the pleasure in Steve’s voice felt good, like a caress on his skin. But when Steve circled around behind Bucky, he nearly swallowed his tongue. Steve had taken off his mask while tightening the final knots, and Bucky could finally see his face again. There was a slight flush on his cheeks, and his eyes were so dark barely any blue was left to see. His lips looked wet, and Bucky wanted Steve to kiss him again.

“You look so good like this.” Steve reached out his hand to touch Bucky’s face again, slowly dragging it up to his neck, then running his finger over the loop of rope there. “All tied up and open for me.”

Steve knelt down in front of Bucky, his hand sliding down Bucky’s clothed chest, tracing the shape of the muscles under the cotton before skimming lower.

“Open; deliciously obscene.” The low thrum of Steve’s voice went straight to Bucky’s cock. It twitched, straining towards his stomach. His balls were heavy and sensitive, tingling with sensation after having come not long ago. “You are _lovely_ , pup,” Steve murmured, spreading his fingers over Bucky’s lower belly and pressing so Bucky rocked backwards, the hook pulling in response so that Bucky moaned.

Steve sighed, smiling.

“The sounds you make.” Steve released the pressure to run his hand lower, his palm sliding slickly over the head of Bucky’s cock. Bucky was desperately hard, biting his lip, trying not to hump Steve’s hand because he knew what that would do to the hook inside him. “The way you shiver...” 

The hand on Bucky’s cock stroked him again, then retreated. Bucky couldn't decide if the lack of stimulation was a relief, or just another form of torture. With Steve, maybe it was meant to be both.

Steve slowly ran the pad of his thumb over Bucky’s lower lip, pulling lightly so they parted. Bucky’s nostrils flared and he fought the urge to lick that digit, watching Steve’s eyes as they locked on his lips, dark and wanting. Wanting him, pulling at his mouth to force his jaw down, force his mouth open. Humming again, he pushed his thumb past Bucky’s lips, pressing down on his tongue. Shivering, Bucky held still, letting Steve do what he wanted because _he_ wanted it, because it was a struggle just to keep his eyes open when he was being touched like this.

“I want your mouth on my cock.” Steve’s voice was rough, low and filled Bucky with need. “Show me how good a job you can do, hm?” 

Pulling his hand back, Steve reached for his belt. Never taking his eyes off of Bucky, he slowly pulled it off, then tossed it aside. Bucky’s throat went dry as Steve pulled his zipper down one torturous inch at a time. He couldn’t stop himself from making a tiny sound when Steve pushed both his pants and underwear down, freeing his cock. It was big and flushed, hard against his own palm, the head already a little slick.

Sliding his fingers into Bucky’s hair, Steve tugged him forward, towards his dick, and Bucky’s eyes practically rolled back in his skull. The rope around his throat went taunt, tugging at the hook, which tugged at his hole and pressed hard against his prostate. Steve had to be aware of what he was doing, but he didn’t stop, pulling Bucky to him by the back of his head until his cock brushed Bucky’s lips, the scent hitting his nose and stroking the fire in his belly higher. The genius of his position struck him then, as Steve’s tip slipped past his lips and he licked precome from the slit. If he bobbed down on Steve’s cock, he’d pull on the hook. If he didn’t, he wasn’t going to please Steve at all, and he wanted to. _God_ , Bucky wanted to please him so much he was almost disgusted with himself.

“That’s it,” Steve crooned, carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Show me how good that mouth of yours is. Show me how good you are, darling wolf.”

Groaning, Bucky knew he was going to be his own undoing, but leaned forward, taking Steve’s cock into his mouth anyway. Steve felt hot on his tongue, smooth and strong. The head filled his mouth like a dream, or a distant memory, and his scent grew stronger, musky and thick. Even as he enjoyed the taste and smell and feel, the hook tugged at Bucky’s insides again, making it impossible to withhold his low, pleasured groan. The pressure eased as he pulled back, Steve’s cock sliding back over his tongue, but returned as soon as he bobbed forward again.

Letting out another grown that was suspiciously close to a whine, Bucky flexed, and the ropes audibly strained about him. This was going to kill him, he could feel it already. Steve hummed again, and Bucky _did_ whine, straining to fit more of him into his mouth, trying to move _faster_ , to give Steve more pleasure. Over and over the hook pressed and released his prostate, making his cock throb, his body ache with tension. It was nowhere near enough to let him come, just teased him, drove his body wild, but Bucky leaned forward again and again, reveling in Steve’s soft moans of pleasure, his encouraging words, and the feel of his hand in Bucky’s hair. It was intoxicating, maddening, his mind erasing all thoughts, leaving nothing but the need to please and the pleasure from both the hook and Steve’s praise.

“God, baby, gonna come,” Steve gasped. 

Whining again, Bucky leaned forward, driving himself down and sucking hard. The ropes dug into his muscles, the hook was inescapable, the thick, heavy ball pressed against his prostate, stretching him hard, all but whiting his mind, but he didn’t pull off. His nose was full of of Steve’s scent, his sweat, his arousal. His mouth was full of his precome, bitter and sharp on his tongue. His jaw ached from the position, but all he could think of was how he wanted to lean in deeper, wanted to press that hard cock as deep into his throat as it could go, and swallow every single drop of Steve’s come. 

“Don’t come,” Steve warned. This time, the bolt of lust Bucky experienced had nothing to do with the damned hook. It was all Steve’s low, smooth voice.

Bucky choked on a breath, each push forward causing a blinding shot of pleasure to shoot up his back. His cock was dripping, heavy and hot between his legs. His balls were steadily tightening, a line of drool dribbled along his chin, and his knees were aching, but all he could think about was pressing closer to Steve, sucking as hard as he could, desperate to taste him. 

It was still a surprise when he felt the cock in his mouth swell and the hands on his face and in his hair tense. Sudden spurts pf come filled his mouth, startling him so he coughed, torn between the conflicting urge to pull away and lick and suck, carry Steve through his orgasm. Staying caused the pressure inside him to increase, almost painful, stretching and pushing, but not rubbing. There was no friction, just maddening pressure, stealing his breath, reminding him he had no control of his body. His body was Steve’s, to use, to come inside, and Bucky swallowed, over and over, drinking everything Steve gave him.

When he couldn’t take another moment, Bucky leaned back. He whined as he did, as Steve’s cock slipped from his lips, panting for air he hadn’t realized he needed. The hook finally eased, but the slow pulsing of his cock did not. He was dizzy and hot, lips swollen from pleasuring Steve, and heart pounding. His hole was stretched open, randomly twitching against the steel bar connected to the ball within him. He felt broken open, vulnerable, completely at Steve’s mercy, and more alive than he could remember.

Though he was panting and gasping, Steve still praised him. “That was perfect, darling wolf.” The aftershocks of pleasure had lowered his voice to new registers. “You did so well.” Steve knelt in front of him, hands framing Bucky’s face with strong palms. “ _You_ were perfect.” Still kneeling, Steve pulled off his shirt and wriggled his pants completely off.

But instead of leaning in, Steve pulled Bucky carefully towards him. Bucky whined again as his insides strained once more, the hook shifting with every millimeter Steve moved him. Yet Bucky didn’t try to move away from his grasp, following the pull, the tug, as Steve wanted. Steve didn’t move at all, dragging Bucky inexorably toward him and into a tender kiss, a slow slide of lips that stole what remained of Bucky’s breath. His lips parted as Steve teased them with his tongue, and then he was inside, tasting himself, humming his approval. 

Bucky shivered, his body strung out on pleasure, anticipation, and Steve’s scent. He gasped when Steve’s hands slid down his neck to his shoulders, cupping the curve of them in his huge hands, and leaving Bucky to hold himself steady. There were no hands pulling him forward, forcing tension against his prostate, just Bucky, trembling at the edge of his ropes, desperately trying not to struggle, or break the flimsy ropes and betray his enhancements.

Steve’s hands slid lower, to his chest, big palms spreading over his pecs. His thumbs brushed Bucky’s nipples and Bucky gasped, twitching from the stimulation. Steve caught on instantly, his thumbs running harsh little circles over Bucky’s shirt, rolling his nipples, sending sparks straight to Bucky’s cock. He felt his cock smearing precome against his shirt as he shuddered. The kiss turned wet and clumsy as Bucky shuddered, shook from all the sensation. 

Dropping a hand from Bucky’s chest, Steve trailed his fingers down Bucky’s trembling belly. He whined as Steve’s hand slowed so close to his cock. He wanted to feel it around him, on him; wanted Steve to push him that last, little bit to orgasm.

Steve did touch him. His hand barely skimmed the wet head of Bucky’s cock and Bucky’s breath hitched as his hips thrust forward, tugging mercilessly at the hook. Shouting into the kiss, he nearly fell forward, Steve’s hands steadied him as his legs trembled, and yet he couldn’t close them. He had to keep them open, make Steve believe they could hold him. But Steve didn’t stop gently, carefully rubbing at his shaft, making Bucky’s hips fill with a need to thrust forward even knowing what that would cause, how the hook would thump against his prostate, trying to pull out of his body entirely.

“Please,” Bucky begged, eyes open but unseeing as Steve slipped around the head of his cock, teased his perineum, then caressed down his shaft and back up to start all over again.

Steve rumbled, deep in his chest, then abruptly let go of Bucky’s cock. Devoid of any stimulation, Bucky nearly sobbed as Steve put his hands on Bucky’s hips, thumbs running little circles on his hip bones. Bucky panted, trying to regain control over himself. There was so much sensation, so much need, and though part of him knew he could just snap the ropes and take what he wanted, most of him _couldn’t._ He could hardly even think to do it. He was Steve’s, his to play with and tease, and Bucky needed to please him, needed to hear that hum again, to know Steve was happy with him.

The hands from Bucky’s hips, slipped to Bucky’s buttocks, giving them a nice, hard squeeze. It pulled his insides against the hook, his hole rubbing against the metal, and Bucky choked on air. Steve shifted, pressing his lips to Bucky’s cheek, his ear, his breathing quick. 

“How are you here?” he whispered, straight into Bucky's ear, his fingers sliding between Bucky’s cheeks to trace along his rim, up over the bar connecting the hook to the ropes, and back. 

“Please,” Bucky begged again.

“Not yet,” Steve said between tiny bites along Bucky’s ear and his neck. “Not quite yet.”

“What-” Bucky fought to be coherent. “What do you want?”

Steve lips, wet and warm, dragged over his neck, back to his cheek and then over Bucky’s own lips.

“To fuck you, use that stretched-out hole of yours like it’s mine,”

Bucky wasn’t able to answer, he just whined, so ready for that, for anything, as long as Steve touched him, gave him release. It didn’t even cross his mind he could struggle or take the pleasure himself. Steve was the only one who could, the only one who gave pleasure.

“I’m going to take what’s mine,” Steve, his voice a rumble. 

Hot and strong, his hands locked in bruisingly hard over Bucky’s hip bones. Steve heaved, and Bucky gasped at the feat of unbelievable strength, then shouted as the sudden shift in position tortured his prostate. Cock twitcing, a line of precome spilled down his cock and shuddered in Steve’s grasp. The world went blurry and strange, then he was falling face first on something soft, the bindings keep his ass in the air. His hole burned at the stretch of the metal inside him.

The bed, Bucky realized. He was on the bed, and Steve was climbing on behind him, his hot palms back on Bucky’s ass. He pushed back at them, desperate for contact, not caring how the hook dug into him harder, or how his hole had to be gaping at Steve. With a hand, Steve spread him even wider, leaving Bucky panting and squirming with how vulnerable he felt, then the other pulled the hook out. He screamed into the bedding, the pleasure and frustration mounting to a painful crescendo.

“You are so open.” Steve’s voice was shuddery and low. “So pretty.” 

Bucky sank down onto the sheets, panting as his body was wracked by spasms. Something touched his hole and the rim fluttered against what Bucky guessed was a finger as Steve pulled at the gaping muscle, pulling it open, then retreating. Bucky whined, feeling empty, needing something to fill the ache the hook had left behind. Then something bigger and hotter was pressing against him. He shouted again as Steve’s cock pushed inside him. The stretch felt so good, the size of him erasing what thoughts were left in Bucky’s mind. He was crying out, squirming, his existence focused on that one point of connection. There must have been lube, because Steve’s cock sank in deeply with one push. So deep inside him, he forgot everything: his name, his own frustrated desire, even his need to push against Steve’s control. 

Steve bottomed out, his hips pressing against Bucky’s ass, but didn’t pause. He started pulling back and Bucky braced himself as much as his bonds allowed, yearning for the thrust that was sure to come. But Steve didn’t reverse and push back in. His cock pulled free of Bucky’s body completely, leaving him empty all over again and _devastated_.

“Please,” Bucky sobbed, unable to to do anything but cry. “ _Please_ , please..”

With a growl, Steve’s hands locked around Bucky’s hips again. The world flipped and Bucky found himself on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as Steve pushed his knees yet further apart and crawled between them. He didn't tease, didn't wait, just lifted Bucky’s bound legs, all but folding him in half so his ass rose in the air. 

Then he pushed his cock back inside Bucky. Hard, fast, he sank in without any resistance, like he belonged there, like he was the missing puzzle piece. Bucky sobbed, his cock spilling precome against his belly. Steve bent over him, forearms resting against the bed on both sides of Bucky’s face, locking him in with the scent of Steve’s sweat and his sex, the heat between them scorching. He thrust in, hips pumping powerfully. Bucky couldn't breathe, couldn’t speak. Steve didn’t let up, but sped up, pressing closer, pressing his wet mouth to Bucky’s and swallowing his wild cries, breathless, ‘Oh oh’ sounds every time his body sheathed Steve’s dick.

“Now,” Steve panted into Bucky’s mouth. “Now. Come now.”

It was all too much. Too much Steve, too much pleasure, too much of Steve's cock dragging over Bucky’s prostate again and again. There wasn’t even a second of respite. The permission stripped his last shred of control, and Bucky gasped out his orgasm. Steve didn’t stop kissing him, licking into his mouth as his body clenched down on the cock inside. Bucky was clutching at Steve’s shoulders as he groaned in pleasure from the vise around his cock and Bucky’s fingers dug into the bunched-up muscles of Steve's back. The orgasm didn’t _stop_ as Steve kept thrusting, his cock jerking against his belly, shooting again and again. 

Through it all, his brain fixed onto one thought. He’d come just with those words, without a single touch. The orgasm was powerful enough to blot out everything else, pleasure cascading through his body, heart pounding in his chest so he could feel it in his throat. Dimly, he realised he had broken through his bonds as he came, and was clutching Steve to him. Steve, who had his face pressed to the crook of Bucky’s neck, his hips pistoning raggedly, fucking Bucky like there was no tomorrow. 

Bucky tangled his fingers into Steve’s short hair, pulled him even closer, and said the only words that he was capable of uttering, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Steve answering cry of pleasure was so intense as to sound painful, and he slammed his hips against Bucky, pushing as deep as he could. Bucky could feel it inside him, Steve’s cock swelling, pulsing, spurting. Steve was coming, his body shuddering in Bucky’s arms as he filled Bucky with heat, with his come, with _life_. 

It seemed to last as long as Bucky’s, but even then Steve didn’t pull away. His face was buried in Bucky’s throat, his hips keeping Bucky’s ass and legs in the air as his cock softened. Already Bucky mourned the loss, his fingers carding over and over through Steve’s hair, enjoying the way Steve would shiver and hum each time his nails scratched along his scalp. The air felt thick and heavy, Bucky’s world floating and so peaceful. He’d forgotten he could feel like this, like nothing mattered except the body against him, in his arms, and the cooling air around their bodies.

Steve shuddered and moved too quick for Bucky’s brain to process. One moment he was inside Bucky, holding him up, the next the ropes had snapped about his thighs and were being stretched out, careful and gentle, even as Steve yanked the bed’s comforter up and over their heads. Bucky had to blink, process this change, process his hands were no longer full of Steve and put them back on Steve’s hips. The skin was almost clammy, and Bucky blinked, focusing as he realized goosebumps had broken out along Steve’s skin. 

“Cold?” he asked despite _knowing_ because his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Bucky wasn’t sure he cared. His body tingled, a lazy smile pulling at his lips, and he was _happy_. This was what he’d needed, why he’d needed Steve, and Steve had been _perfect_.

“We’ll warm up,” Steve said, his voice still breathless. He hadn’t moved from between Bucky’s legs, though he’d lowered Bucky to the bed. Now he massaged Bucky’s calves, his thighs, helping the blood return after such an awkward position.

“Hmm,” Bucky agreed, closing his eyes to keep that floaty feeling as long as possible. He dragged his palms down Steve’s back, just to feel his skin, and sighed. The comforter was trapping their scents, muting the bright lights of the bedroom, creating a world all their own in diffuse pinks and musky heat. “‘S good.”

He was aching a little, his ass well-used, and he liked that. Liked the faint ache, the wetness, even the slight pulsing of his hole attempting to close now that the festivities were over.

“You were good,” Steve said. “Like a dream.”

Bucky’s smile grew as warmth built in his chest and spilled out toward his limbs. The tingling returned for a moment, Steve’s words adding a short rush to the sensation. Steve’s hands helped, moving up Bucky’s thighs and then switching to his arms, leaving him a puddle on the bed. They worked up his biceps, to his shoulders, then the back of his neck. 

Then Steve’s hand cradled his head, Bucky stared up into Steve’s beautiful blue eyes, and _Steve reached for his mask._

Bucky’s hand flew to catch Steve’s arm before rational thought had the time to catch up with him. Steve was touching him with care that seemed almost too much for a stranger he’d just met, and Bucky tried to luxuriate in it without the pang of guilt. He wanted something simple, wanted to feel calm, taken care of. He didn’t want to deal with the pain that revealing his identity would bring them. He just… he just didn't want to think at all. At least for a moment.

Disappointment showed on Steve’s face, he bit his lip, and then he nodded. Bucky almost expected him to apologize, but he didn’t, just brushed a kiss along Bucky’s cheek. Wanting to distract himself from the darker thoughts, Bucky reached for Steve and pulled him in for a kiss, relishing the way Steve went with his tug, his lips soft and wet, fitting over Bucky’s like a glove.

“I’m going to get you something to drink,” Steve murmured when the kiss ended, though he didn’t pull away immediately, their foreheads pressed together.

Bucky nodded, then watched Steve get up, unselfconscious in his nakedness and crossed the room. The play of his muscles was a thing of beauty, drawing Bucky’s eyes along his perfect back to his impossibly small ass. It was hidden soon after Steve shivered, then backtracked to grab the robe hanging off the back of the door. 

“Boo,” Bucky called, making Steve turn and grin at him cheekily. He didn’t take it off, though, and Bucky sighed, burrowing into the covers for his own warmth as he waited for Steve to come back. It was a shame this couldn’t last, that he couldn’t drink his water and roll over once Steve came back, have the big lug curl up behind him and get some real rest. The thought was nice enough he spent a moment playing with the idea of telling Steve who he was. A short moment, as the thought of Steve’s pained face flitted through his mind. 

Steve’s feet padded back up the hall and Bucky felt himself smile before he even caught sight of Steve’s tousled hair and blue eyes. In his hands were four bottles of water, which he set on the bedside table before sliding his arm under Bucky, sitting, and pulling Bucky up and against his side in a surprisingly smooth movement. Bucky was too relaxed to fight the manhandling, but it did leave him blinking. There was a little thrill down in his stomach at the handling. Not many people would think to do it. Steve didn’t even hesitate, and Bucky _liked_ it. Liked the confidence and the self assurance.

Sliding his hand under Steve’s robe, Bucky made Steve laugh, but also got his hand on one long, muscled thigh. He squeezed as Steve adjusted him, then grabbed a bottle of water, popped the top, and pressed it to Bucky’s lips. 

Huffing, Bucky took the bottle from him, drinking on his own. That just seemed to free up Steve’s hand as he dropped it over Bucky’s, not pulling him away, but trailing his fingertips over the back of Bucky’s hand, to his wrist and back. It was incredibly intimate, this moment, and Bucky almost choked on the water he was drinking. He managed not to by sheer force of will, but his heart was beating hard and he finished off the bottle, Steve’s hand on his and his hand on Steve the entire time.

Bucky shifted, hyper-aware of Steve’s thigh pressed against his own, the heat of his body like a living being reaching Bucky though the flimsy layer of cloth he called a robe. He squeezed his fingers about Steve’s thigh again, luxuriating in the solidity of the muscle, before running his hand up that shapely thigh. He liked the way the skin got hotter the closer he got to Steve’s groin just as much as he liked the slight hitch in Steve’s breathing. 

“You are beautiful,” Bucky blurted out without planning to. The mask made it easy. He could be free here, could say to Steve all the things he might not dare in a different situation. It might be unfair, but it was freeing in ways he never expected. He slid his hand lower, down to Steve’s surprisingly bony knee and cupped his hand there, fingers spanning the charmingly vulnerable bone.

Plucking the empty bottle from Bucky’s hand, Steve removed the cap from another hand pressed it into his hand. Then he was kissing Bucky behind his ear, along his jaw, down his neck. He didn’t reply to the compliment, but made Bucky shiver and his hand shake so the water sloshed dangerously. 

“Drink,” Steve whispered, and Bucky complied without a second thought. God, but the guy had Bucky wrapped around his finger.

The bottle emptied faster than Bucky wanted, seemingly vanishing no matter how slowly he thought he was swallowing. Then Steve was taking it, pushing yet _another_ into his hand and saying, “Would you rather use the guest bathroom or mine for a shower?” 

“Um...” 

Bucky wasn’t sure what answer he wanted to give. On the one hand, the scene was done and it was time to leave. On the other, he liked this closeness, just sitting here and touching each other lazily, even casually. He thought he would like to make out a little, feel Steve’s skin against his own, smell his skin again.

“The guest one, I think.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice was oddly soft, but he didn’t protest. He just put his arm around Bucky’s waist and helped him get his feet under him. He wasn’t looking at Bucky any more, but at their bare feet, focused on them like they were a distant target. Bucky tried to see what was so fascinating, but it was just their feet. Steve’s huge, pale monstrosities next to his darker ones with small hairs on his big toe. Nothing special, which meant Steve was just avoiding looking at him.

Gently pulling away, Bucky gathered up his things as quick as he could. The atmosphere was broken. He took a step and had to lock his knees, surprised how wobbly they felt. Steve got to him more than he’d expected. It was both a disappointment and a relief when Steve said nothing as Bucky headed for the door.

He paused, one foot in the corridor, and turned to look back at Steve.

“Thank you.” He meant it. Hell, he wanted to say more, explain how much he’d needed what happened, but didn't have the words that wouldn’t sound akward or strange. 

Steve’s smile was tight, but he finally looked at Bucky again.

“It was my pleasure, darling wolf.”

Bucky smiled, bared his teeth and growled playfully. That chased the melancholy hovering around Steve away, made him laugh and smile, then shook Bucky down the hall.

“Go on; you have to be uncomfortably sticky.”

“Kinda like your come on my skin,” Bucky murmured, dragging his eyes down that incredible body. Yeah, he didn't mind Steve marking him in any way.

Steve flushed, rubbed the back of his head, and his smile turned sheepish.

“I kind of like how it’s been leaking out of you.”

Bucky lowered his gaze, heat spreading though his belly and reaching up to his chest. The desire was ridiculously strong, coming at him like a sea tide, slow, powerful and unstoppable. He licked his lips and shifted the bundle of his clothes in his arms.

“I can still feel the ache of your cock inside me.” He exhaled. “How far you stretched me.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I couldn't have made a better choice today.”

Licking his lips, Steve looked away again, opening his mouth, then closing it. Like he was lost for words, which was a first for the night. Steve had always known what to say.

“Well, you know where I live now, if you want… to come back. You know,” Steve rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “if you want. Sometime.”

Bucky felt wrong-footed suddenly. He did want, but he was also aware that keeping the secret of his identity for longer than one night wasn’t feasible. Still, he was surprisingly unwilling to outright refuse Steve. “I know,” was all he could say. Then he was left staring at Steve who was uncomfortably staring back, as if he knew the words were actually a refusal. He also realized _he_ was making this awkward. Steve had gently hearded him to the shower, but he had stopped to talk, he had kept talking, and now…

Swallowing, Bucky turned away and limped down the hall. “On your left,” Steve called as Bucky reached two doors, then turned into the bathroom. Bucky barely saw it, something oddly painful blooming in his chest as the door shut behind him. He stripped quickly, avoiding his reflection as he turned on the water. Not bothering to wait to let it warm up, he stepped under the spray and scrubbed down as quickly as he could. 

This was what he wanted, this was what he had planned, and he would not dwell on his sudden shifting mood. He kept his mind blank, a habit from his days as the Winter Soldier, and was out in five minutes. In less than that, he had dried off and pulled on the clothes he’d arrived in, grimacing slightly at the sweat he could smell on them. When he opened the door, the sound of another shower reached his ears and he breathed a sigh of relief. If he didn’t see Steve again, he wouldn’t create another awkward moment. He could just go. He’d gotten what he needed.

Bucky hesitated, staring at Steve’s bedroom, then forced himself to turn toward the front door. His body tingled; the stress of the last few months was gone. He didn’t need to destroy that worrying over things better left alone. Steve knew the score, knew this was a one-night thing. This was for the best. 

As quietly as he could, Bucky opened the door and closed it just as carefully, even though he suspected Steve would hear it either way as his enhancements outmatched even Bucky’s. He shrugged his jacket on as he stepped into the night air. There were no cars, the area surprisingly quiet this time of the night. He inhaled the cool, New York air deeply, trying to clear his head of Steve. How he felt when he’d pushed Bucky down, the power of his frame when he’d held him immobile, it was hard to shake. 

Bucky started walking towards the nearest subway station, remembering the way Steve had tied him up and put a hook inside him. So ingenious. So evil. So good. His face when he took off the mask… 

Freezing, he realized there was something wrong with that image. Steve had taken his mask off. Free of the endorphins clouding his thinking, Bucky thought back to the club, to his conversation with Steve and how unwilling he had been to take off the mask if Bucky remained hidden. There had been no hesitation in him then, no indication that he wasn’t completely serious. And yet...

Bucky rubbed his face, bare now since he hadn’t put his mask on after his shower. Steve wasn't the kind of guy who changed his mind easily. Yet something had happened between the club and the tying up moment that changed Steve’s mind. Steve had dropped the pet names at that same time. Later, when Bucky broke through rope no human should be able to break from his position, Steve had said nothing. He must have noticed. It would be pretty far-fetched to not have noticed. What’s more, Steve hadn’t bothered untying Bucky. He’d snapped the ropes. He’d revealed himself as enhanced in that moment, and he hadn’t even flinched. It wasn’t as if Steve had done it in the heat of the moment, or by accident. It was a deliberate action. At the time, Bucky hadn’t thought anything of it. It was natural. Ropes were to him like thread was to normal people. 

The sky was muddy grey with light pollution, but the sun wasn’t close to rising. Bucky stood at the curb, staring toward the station, but didn’t walk away. It was right there. It had been there the whole time.

Steve hadn’t reacted to Bucky breaking his ropes, because he, like Bucky, expected it to be the natural result. He hadn’t expected Bucky to think it strange because he knew Bucky was enhanced.

Because he knew Bucky… was _Bucky_.

Bucky put his flesh hand on the nearby parking meter and bent down, breath strangling in his throat.

Steve _knew_.

He knew who Bucky was, but had let him keep his illusion of secrecy, let him be the stranger he wanted to be, gave him all the freedom he wanted. Steve had taken care of him, given him pleasure, and then _let him go_. Bucky felt dizzy with the realisation, with the enormity of it.

Steve let him go. 

No questions, no pressure, nothing. None of Bucky’s fears had proved true. Nothing he expected had happened. Steve refused to play into any of those fears and somehow, unbelievably, Steve understood what it meant for Bucky to be able to walk away. Perversely, that was what he’d feared most - that he wouldn’t be allowed to was what made Bucky walk away. Steve hadn’t tried to stop him. Steve _understood_. 

God, Bucky didn’t want to leave Steve. A huge weight lifted off his shoulders; his fears dispelled and proven false. He giggled, a manic sound that he swallowed as fast as it had started. He was grateful for the late hour when he straightened up, as it meant nobody had seen him have a mini-breakdown. Then again, it was New York. No one would have cared.

Bucky turned back the way he’d come, his feet moving him back towards Steve’s apartment block. He didn't want to leave Steve, and now he knew he didn’t have to. There was nothing to fear but his own paranoia. He wanted Steve, wanted to touch him, wanted to experience all the things Steve wanted to do to him. Wanted Steve to kiss him, touch him, fuck him, curl up behind him and just sleep. Wanted to see Steve’s face when he saw Bucky without the mask. Wanted to eat breakfast with Steve, cuddled up to him, and see him in that silky robe again. And he could.

The first knock got nothing, so Bucky knocked again. The door practically flew inwards under his hand and Bucky watched Steve’s confused irritation melt into open-mouthed shock. He also noticed Steve’s eyes were red, his hair was damp, water dripped from his muscles, and he was wearing nothing but a towel held together by one hand at his waist.

Finally, Steve managed to say, “Bucky?” 

Bucky cleared his suddenly dry throat. 

“Yeah.”

Steve’s mouth opened and closed again. Bucky snorted, practically able to see the smoke coming out of Steve’s ears as his brain spun. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was obvious now Steve hadn’t expected him to come back. 

“You gonna let me in, or give your building a show?”

The words shocked Steve back to life. He jolted, then stepped back to let Bucky in. Bucky didn’t make it over the threshold before Steve grabbed him, though, shoving him against the wall. Distantly, he heard the towel hit the carpet and the door shut, but Steve was boxing him in and his eyes were so _bright_ , and it was all he could focus on. That, and Steve’s hands on his hips, holding him tight, before he kissed Bucky for all he was worth. Bucky melted against him and returned the heated, needy kiss as a smile stole across his face. 

**Author's Note:**

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